If Today Was Your Last Day
by Lt. Commander Hanna Tucker
Summary: Malcolm and Trip get drunk one night on shore leave and find out the next morning that they're married. Things go downhill from there. - (Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III)
1. Glycerin

Glycerin

* * *

**A/N: This story I originally posted over on AO3, and while it's not my best work, I thoroughly enjoyed writing it (even though I put my poor Malcolm through so much angst!) so I figured I'd post it here anyway. Plus, it's already finished, which is a plus! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Malcolm cuddled closer to the warmth beside him, his nose nuzzling the crook of a neck and his bare arms entrapping the equally bare body beside him. It was nice, aside from Malcolm's aching head. The Brit felt slow, steady breaths fluttering in his hair from his lover. Malcolm hoped for a moment that it was Trip, but he was sure it was impossible. Trip could never feel this way about him. Malcolm was jerked from his thoughts when his lover groaned, stirring from his sleep. The armoury officer knew his lover had to have been male, seeing as no woman sounded _that_ deep. Unless she smoked. Not to mention the body in his arms didn't exactly have a set of breasts.

"Ugh... my head feels like it was beat with a giant sledgehammer..."

Malcolm suddenly sat up like a rocket, eyes now wide open with shock. "Trip?! Wha-what are you- what in- just what are- oh, _bloody hell!"_

Trip stared back at him, equally startled. "Malcolm?! What are ya doin' in my bed?!"

"What do you mean?!" Malcolm shot back. "This is _my_ bed!... At least, I think it is..."

"Well, either way it's obviously _somebody's_ bed!" Trip shouted at the Brit, "and we're both in it! _Naked!"_

Malcolm rubbed his face with one hand, trying to make sense of the situation and sooth his now pounding head at the same time. "No. No, this can't be happening... the Captain's going to kill us, then Starfleet will too, then my _father_..." He trailed off when he spotted the silver band on his ring finger. "Uh... Commander?"

"Yeah?" Trip was hurriedly trying pulling on a pair of pants (by this time he had already retrieved his underwear of course). "What is it?"

"Are you by any chance wearing a ring?"

Trip looked over at Malcolm, frowning. "Why...?"

"Are you or are you _not_ wearing a ring?" Malcolm demanded.

Trip lifted up both his hands and spotted a silver ring on the finger of his left hand. "Yeah... so?"

"I think we may have done a lot more than just have _sex_ last night," Malcolm explained, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. He lifted his hand to show Trip the ring. "Either that's one hell of a coincidence, or we..."

"Shit!" Trip swore, standing up quickly. He put his hands on his face, flushing red with embarrassment. "Ya mean to tell me we got so drunk last night we not only decided to have _sex_ but get _married_ too?! At this rate, I ain't ever takin' shore leave again!" The engineer's words stung Malcolm deeply. The tactical officer had known that Trip wasn't attracted to him, but there had been a tiny inkling of hope. A hope that maybe, just maybe Trip loved him. That hope was gone now.

Malcolm hid his disappointment with an impassive mask as he replied, "Well, look at it this way- as far as we know, we're the only ones who know this happened, aside from any strangers who were involved in the... uh, _wedding_. And in that case, it's unlikely we'll ever see them again. So we can pretend that it _never_ happened." As if to contradict this, the hotel room's comm beeped. Trip just let out a huff and headed into the bathroom. Malcolm didn't move to answer the comm at first. It beeped again, insisting. Finally after the third beep, he pulled on a shirt and some pants (not even bothering with the underwear) and sat down at the desktop to answer. On the screen the image of his father appeared and he was clearly a lot more than displeased.

"Lieutenant," Stuart Reed greeted, a tint of anger in his voice.

"Father," Malcolm replied, suddenly on edge. _Oh no... we didn't actually..._ "Why are you calling?"

"I'm calling because I received _this_ transmission from you last night," Reed answered. He pressed a button and on the corner of the screen popped up the image of a certain pair of drunken Starfleet officers.

_"Heya, Mister Reed,"_ Trip slurred, a huge grin on his face._ "Guess what? Me and yer boy Mal here just tied the knot! Kinda sudden, but ya know, whatcha gonna do when it comes to love, huh? Am Ah right?"_

Malcolm slung an arm lazily across the back of Trip's shoulders._ "Triiip... I want to go to bed... please? You have an awfully nice bum that I'm just _dying_ to see!"_

_"Keep yer shirt on, Lieutenant,"_ Trip told him._ "Actually, on second thought, go 'head and take it off. Catcha later, Mister Reed!"_ With that, the recording ended.

Malcolm put his face in his hands and let out a shuddering sigh. "We were _drunk,_ father. It was a mistake. An accident. We didn't... we didn't _mean_ for that to happen."

"It doesn't change anything," Reed retorted. "Whether or not you and that unruly _American_ were drunk last night is of no concern to me- you have disgraced our family legacy!"

Something in Malcolm seemed to snap. He whipped his head up, a tumultuous anger in his normally calm blue eyes. Without a single word of reply Malcolm slammed his fist on a button, hanging up on his father.

Malcolm then hung his head, biting his lip as he tried to think of how he was going to break the news to Trip.


	2. Shatter Me, Part I

Shatter Me, Part I

* * *

Malcolm slammed a plastic crate on the floor, the heavy object hitting with a loud bang. His fellow armoury officers, who were working on realigning the magnetic coils in the phase pistols, jerked their heads to look at him. The Brit leaned against the wall, glaring down at his subordinates. "Whatever it is you're doing, stop. Get to work on these relays for the phase cannons. We need to have them back up and running before the end of the day."

"But sir-"

"That's an order. Follow it." With that, Malcolm turned on his heel and stalked out of the armoury. With each step he took, he felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for a deep hollow in his chest. It had only happened a month ago now, but to Malcolm it felt like an eternity.

Starfleet had been surprisingly... well, _lenient_ when they received news of Malcolm and Trip's accidental marriage. They only received a fifteen day suspension, followed by two months of extra duties of Captain Archer's choosing. The Vulcans weren't exactly pleased by the outcome, as they felt that wasn't a good enough punishment. Captain Archer convinced Admiral Forrest that this being a first offense, Starfleet shouldn't be too hard on the officers. He did agree that reprimand was indeed in order, however, and thus came the suspension and extra duties.

Malcolm could handle that. While he was sure his father was more than likely still pretty pissed off that his son had gotten a blemish on his Starfleet record, Malcolm considered himself lucky in that respect. Reed wasn't exactly on speaking terms with his son anyway, the armoury officer having "disgraced the family legacy" when he accidentally married Trip.

Malcolm didn't feel so lucky when it came to Trip. The Southerner, the man whom he had come to consider his friend, wouldn't even talk to him anymore outside of duty. Malcolm remembered the last time they had lunch together. It had been the day before they had gone down to Earth for their weekend of shore leave. After the accidental marriage_,_ Trip seemed to want nothing to do with the armoury officer anymore.

And when Malcolm received news that mother's health had been declining of late, that had been the tip of the iceberg for the Brit's emotional state.

As he made his way down the corridor to Sickbay, the armoury officer absent mindedly pulled his sleeves even lower to hide the thin white scars on his arms. Most of them were faint, but a few were quite visible. Malcolm wasn't sure what he was supposed to tell Phlox for today's physical. At the time, the armoury officer had been drinking and acted out on an impulse, hoping that somehow the physical pain would drown out his emotional suffering. It didn't work.

If anything, it only amplified his grief. But he had continued to take out his frustrations on his own body, abusing it- pushing it to the edge of its physical limits, not going to Sickbay for the minor injuries accumulated while training, and often avoiding the mess hall for days at a time.

Malcolm stepped into the turbolift, sighing tiredly as he ordered the computer to take him to the appropriate deck. Phlox was definitely going to notice Malcolm's recent self-destructive behaviour. Suddenly the turbolift jerked to a stop. Malcolm frowned slightly- he couldn't have possibly gotten to Sickbay so quickly. Someone must have intercepted the turbolift. And sure enough, the door slid open. Malcolm glanced up to see who it was and found Trip staring at him.

"Commander," Malcolm greeted, his voice cracking slightly. He looked away, locking his gaze on a panel that lined the turbolift wall. He hadn't seen Trip in the past two weeks, since their duties didn't normally require them to interact. The engineer looked normal- maybe a bit sleep deprived, but him being _Enterprise's_ chief engineer, that was probably normal.

"Lieutenant," Trip replied, stepping into the turbolift. "Computer, Engineerin.'" They stood side by side, more silent than a dormouse. Malcolm's flicked briefly at Trip, to see his expression. The Brit suddenly felt weak, no doubt from not eating lately. "Ya alright there, Mal?" Trip asked when he looked over at Malcolm, concern suddenly flashing across his face. "Ya ain't lookin' so good."

"I'm fine," Malcolm retorted, unaware of how much his body was trembling. Trip placed his hand lightly on the armoury officer's back, as if to steady him.

"You're shakin' like a leaf," Trip pointed out. "And nobody's seen ya in the mess hall for the past few days. Ya sure you're alright?" The turbolift jerked to a stop and the doors slid open.

Malcolm turned his gaze upon Trip. "Yes, I'm sure. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my physical." With that, he pulled away from the engineer and headed down the corridor. His head felt light, but he ignored it. Trip caught up to Malcolm and grabbed his arm, pulling the Brit to a stop.

"Talk to me." Malcolm attempted to pull away, but Trip jerked him back. "Mal. Are ya _sure_ you're okay? Cuz from where I'm standin', ya don't look okay to me."

Malcolm looked up at the engineer, a trace of pented-up anger in his blue eyes. "Oh, so _now_ you express concern for my well-being?" he spat angrily. "And it took you only what? A month? A month to decide all of a sudden that you give a damn?!" He tore his arm from Trip's grasp. "It's a little too _late_ for that, _Commander!_ And anyway, it's not your problem. It's mine, and I will handle it how I see fit! So piss off!" He turned around on his heel and walked into Sickbay without another word to Trip.

* * *

"Lieutenant, how have you been doing emotionally?" Phlox asked out of nowhere during the examination.

_Ah, so he noticed,_ Malcolm thought, silently cursing at himself. "Why do you ask?"

"The scans of your body show signs of malnutrition as well as several untreated injuries. Not to mention I can see quite clearly you're sleep deprived," Phlox explained. Then he grabbed the armoury officer's arm and yanked the sleeve up. "And then there's these scars my scanner detected. Lieutenant, these are _all_ signs of depression. I cannot in good conscience ignore it."

Malcolm let out a shaky sigh. "I don't want a counselor."

"I have to tell the Captain about this," Phlox told him. "You know that- the doctor-patient confidentiality only goes so far. Your self-abusive behaviour could pose a threat to the ship and its crew, and I can't allow that. I'm sorry, Lieutenant." He moved to the comm and pressed a button. "Doctor Phlox to the bridge. Captain, you should come down to Sickbay right away."

"Why, what's wrong?" Jonathan asked. "My appointment isn't until later today."

"This isn't about your appointment, Captain, I'm well aware of the schedule," Phlox replied. "Just come down as soon as you can. It's rather urgent." Malcolm continued to protest, saying he was fine, but Phlox wouldn't have any of it. Jonathan was finally in Sickbay in the space of ten minutes.

"What's going on?" Jonathan looked at Phlox, then at Malcolm.

"Phlox, I can take care of myself," Malcolm grumbled.

"The way you have been abusing your body says otherwise," Phlox pointed out. The Denobulan doctor turned to face Jonathan. "Lieutenant Reed is exhibiting possible signs of depression, perhaps the melancholic subtype. His slow metabolism indicates he hasn't been eating regularly enough and there are scars on his wrists indicating he had been cutting himself. And I don't need the scans to tell you he hasn't been getting enough sleep recently."

Jonathan turned to Malcolm. "Is this true?"

Malcolm didn't answer.

"Lieutenant?"

The emotions Malcolm had been suppressing for so long rose up without warning and struck him violently. His breathing became short and his vision blurry. _Reeds never cry._ "I... need... think I need... need to be alone." He quickly stood from the biobed and stumbled towards the double doors that led out of Sickbay. Malcolm's legs gave out from underneath him and he hit the floor. Jonathan was immediately kneeling at his side, partially cradling the smaller man's gaunt body.

"Lieutenant!"

Malcolm looked up at Jonathan, an almost vacant expression in his gaze. "I was a fool, Captain. I was a bloody fool, and now I'm paying for it." The armoury officer closed his eyes and he went limp in the Captain's arms, losing consciousness.

"Help me get him back on the biobed," Phlox ordered, grabbing Malcolm's legs. Jonathan nodded and assisted the Denobulan in hoisting the Brit back onto the biobed. When Malcolm was safely stowed away on the bed, Jonathan took a better look at the armoury officer. He could just barely see the dark rings under Malcolm's eyes and the thinness of his cheekbones.

"How long has this been going on?" Jonathan asked.

"At least two weeks, a month at most," Phlox replied grimly. "I need to set up an IV. There's one over in the corner there. If you could get it for me?" Jonathan promptly brought the IV to Phlox.

"Anything else?" Jonathan asked, his voice quiet.

Phlox looked up from his patient at Jonathan. "Not at the moment. I'll notify you immediately if there's any change in his condition."

Jonathan nodded quietly. "Thanks, Phlox."

"I'm just doing my job, Captain."

Jonathan, after looking at Malcolm's limp body one last time, left Sickbay. As he headed down the corridor, he considered his next move. If he was right, then more likely than not this had something to do with Trip. He knew that the two officers had been attracted to each other for a long time now, but neither had the courage to make a move. Until a month ago, when they got so drunk they accidentally got married. And while Jonathan hadn't been entirely pleased with the situation, he had been hoping this had been the kicker and the two finally got around to admitting their feelings.

A small chat with Trip a week or two ago told Jonathan otherwise.

"Cap'n, I like Mal, I really do," Trip had told him. "And as much as I'd like to... ya know, be with him... to... love him... I don't wanna screw up our friendship any more than I already have. I'd rather not wind up in Sickbay with a broken jaw or somethin.' And... then there's the damn Starfleet Regulations to consider. Next time somethin' like... next time somethin' like this happens, they might decide to punish us more harshly. I'd be puttin' both our careers on the line!"

"The Starfleet Regulations are still being _written," _Jonathan pointed out. "We're the first Starfleet crew to be exploring deep space, Trip. Nothing's really been carved in _stone_ yet. Starfleet may eventually _accept_ romance between crew members during long-term missions."

"Even if Starfleet did that," Trip replied after a moment, "would... would Mal even _want_ me?"

The conversation had left Jonathan thoroughly fed up. And it led the Captain to believe that Trip neglecting Malcolm was what caused the armoury officer's health to deteriorate so much in such a short amount of time. If anything was for certain, it was that Jonathan was going to give Trip one hell of a talking to.


	3. Shatter Me, Part II

Shatter Me, Part II

* * *

Trip nearly dropped his hydrospanner when Jonathan literally whipped open the door to Engineering. "Cap'n?"

"You, me, Sickbay! Now!" Jonathan clearly wasn't in the mood for an objection, so Trip climbed down the ladder that ran long the outside of the warp engine and followed the Captain out of Engineering.

"Jon, what's goin' on?!" Trip asked. "I already had my check-up this mornin' and Phlox said I was fine. There ain't anyt-"

"Trip, this is _not_ about your check-up. This is about _Malcolm,"_ Jonathan interrupted, his voice curt. "His mother is _deathly_ _ill_ and isn't going to make it, he and his father aren't on _speaking terms_ as far as I know, and the man he's in love with won't even give him the time of day!"

"W-what? I don't- _what?!"_ Trip, confused, looked at Jonathan. "Jon, what are ya talkin' 'bout?!"

"Malcolm is in Sickbay unconscious and no doubt hooked up to an IV by now! This has gone far enough, Trip- you're coming down to Sickbay even if I have to _stun_ you and _drag_ your ass down there myself!"

Trip nodded, his face lined with worry. As he followed Jonathan to the turbolift, he asked softly, "What's... what's happened to Mal, Jon?" His voice was thin, like glass. He followed Jonathan into the turbolift, his eyes searching his friend anxiously. "Jon? Mal... is he... is Mal gonna be okay?"

"Computer, Sickbay," Jonathan ordered. As the door slid shut, he looked over at his engineer. "Lieutenant Reed's got the weight of the world on his shoulders and it's taken its toll on him. It's damaged him. Not just physically but also emotionally. He's... been taking out his frustrations on himself."

Trip's mouth opened slightly as he attempted to formulate a reply. But no words came to mind. Malcolm... Malcolm would never do that to himself... would he? Finally, he took a deep breath and asked. "What... what did he do?"

Jonathan looked at his friend with an expression of... was it pity? "He... he's been starving himself. Cutting his wrists... not sleeping."

"What? N-no, Malcolm wouldn't do that- he wouldn't-"

"He has been, Trip!" Jonathan snapped. "Malcolm has been doing those things because he's losing two of the only things that meant anything to him in this universe- his _mother_ and your _friendship_ with him!"

"I thought he needed space-"

"Well, it was the last thing he needed, Trip! Malcolm doesn't _need _space- he needs _you!_ Because you know him better than anyone else on this ship! Because he needs someone like you, right now, to help get him through what he's going through! Because- goddammit, Trip! Because he _loves_ you!"

There was a moment of silence as this last bit of information sank in. "Malcolm... loves me?" Trip asked, staring at the Captain incredulously. "B-but..."

"Trip, I've seen the way he looks at you every time you come onto the bridge during his shift," Jonathan told him, his voice softer now. "We all have. We've seen the way you two would sit during movie night, next to each other. The way you would look at him in the middle of a scene, like there was no one else in the mess except for you two. You told me yourself, Trip- you want to love Malcolm. I think Malcolm wants to love you too."

The remainder of the trip to Sickbay seemed to be a blur to Trip. It seemed that for one second, he was in the turbolift with Jonathan, talking about how Malcolm loved him- and then the next he was sitting at Malcolm's side, staring down at the smaller man's face. The armoury officer was still unconscious and very pale. Thin creases of weariness lined his face, as if to emphasise the torment that Malcolm had been putting himself through the past month. "Malcolm..." Trip saw the white scars trailing along the Brit's wrists and nearly vomited at the sight. "I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have done what I did... I thought... God, this is my fault, ain't it?"

The only response was the steady, regular beep of the biobed monitor.

"Should we give them some privacy?" Jonathan whispered to Phlox. The Denobulan gave a silent nod, looking over at the distraught engineer. Without another word, the Captain and Phlox slipped quietly out the double doors of Sickbay, leaving Trip and Malcolm alone.

"Mal, I'm sorry," Trip continued, his emotional walls slowly breaking down. "I'm sorry I didn't see what you were goin' through. I'm sorry I was such an ass to ya. I just thought ya needed space. 'Stead I ended up makin' it seem like I didn't give a damn. But I _do_ give a damn, Mal... I didn't know what was happenin' to you and your ma. I didn't know you and you're dad were givin' each other the silent treatment. I thought I was doin' the right thing by leavin' ya alone... I won't make the same mistake again... I'll be here for ya, always." He closed his eyes and unsuccessfully tried to hold back a sob.

"Trip..."

Trip opened his eyes and looked down at Malcolm. "Mal?"

"... you know, for an ass, you... you have an awfully nice... well, _ass,"_ Malcolm murmured, squinting up at the blonde through sleepy eyes. "What... what are you doing here, Commander?"

"Don't _Commander_ me, Malcolm," Trip told him sternly, taking Malcolm's hand in his own. "It's Trip. My name is _Trip."_

"I... I asked you a question."

"I'm here cuz I was an idiot and didn't see what I was puttin' my best friend through." Trip's thumb traced lightly over the back of Malcolm's hand. "I thought ya needed space. I thought... after the whole marriage thing that..."

"That what?" Malcolm wheezed, coughing a bit. "That I... I wouldn't want to be your friend anymore?... Comman- er, Trip... I thought _you_ didn't... didn't want to be _my_ friend anymore. That you... you were avoiding... me because..." His voice cracked slightly and he turned his head away.

Trip put his free hand on the armoury officer's cheek and tilted his head back over so they were eye to eye. "Mal... I'm sorry. For everythin'. For not noticin' what was goin' on, for not bein' there for ya when ya needed me... I'm not gonna let it happen again..." Malcolm stared up at the engineer, his blue eyes swimming with doubt. "... because I love you."

Malcolm continued to stare, his mouth open slightly as he tried to formulate a response. After a moment, he asked, "You... love _me?"_

"Hell yes I do," Trip told him. "And I ain't ever gonna leave ya alone like that again. I promise."

"Why should I believe you?" Malcolm demanded, his eyes now burning with anger. "You never... you never showed an interest in me before. Not like this... I just... why should I believe you won't do this to me again? Tell me. Why should I?!"

"Mal-"

"Don't you dare 'Mal' me, _Commander!_ It took me _breaking down in Sickbay_ for you to finally admit your _feelings?!_ How do I know you're not saying any of this just to make me feel better?! If it's all the same to you, you can go to h-" Malcolm's rant was cut off when Trip suddenly bent down and kissed him. It was a light and gentle kiss- the Southerner was afraid of possibly injuring Malcolm if he kissed him any harder.

After a minute, Trip hesitantly pulled away. He looked down at the armoury officer, who was apparently too shocked to say anything. "Malcolm, I'm not askin' ya to believe me," Trip murmured. "I'm just tellin' ya-"

"Get out," Malcolm growled abruptly.

"Mal-"

"Didn't you hear me," Malcolm snarled, "or do I have to shout? I said get out!" Trip didn't move, which only seemed to enrage the Brit further. "I don't need you! I don't need _anyone."_

"Wrong on both counts, Lieutenant. Mal, it don't matter what ya say to me. I ain't leavin'. So suck it up and deal with it."

"Go to hell."

"Now where have I heard that one before?" Malcolm glared up at Trip, though with a touch less venom than before. The engineer slowly ran his fingers through the Brit's hair repeatedly. "I wantcha to know how sorry I am, Mal. And I'm gonna prove it to ya. Every day, for the rest of our lives."

"'Until death do us part?'" Malcolm asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

"Til death do us part," Trip vowed in all seriousness.

Malcolm seemed skeptical of the engineer's promise, but he didn't object either. "I'll hold you to that, Mistah Tuckah."

"Wouldn't have expected any less, Mister Reed."


	4. Walking the Wire

Walking the Wire

* * *

Trip stepped out of the bathroom, combing his fingers through his wet hair nervously. Today had been a particularly stressful day, being chased by a group of incredibly pissed-off alien tribesmen and whatnot. Thankfully _Enterprise_ beamed him up in the nick of time or Trip probably would've been those aliens' next meal.

The engineer was most certainly looking forward to snuggling up with Malcolm that evening. The doorbell beeped, interrupting Trip's train of thought. "Come in!" The door slid open to reveal Malcolm, who was looking none too happy at the moment. He stepped inside and the door slid shut behind him. Trip frowned when he saw the Brit's scowl. "Mal? Ya okay?"

Malcolm didn't reply, instead sitting down on Trip's bunk and staring into space. Trip moved to sit beside the armoury officer and put a hand on his shoulder. "Malcolm? Somethin' wrong?"

"You could have died," Malcolm told him in an almost inaudible whisper. "You could have died on that planet. If... if we hadn't used the transporter... you would be _dead."_ He stood up and started pacing in agitation. "Trip, you could have died! You could have died and there wouldn't have been a single damn thing I could have done about it- I just- just- y-you stupid son of a bitch!" He turned his back to Trip, shuddering with each breath he took. "Things have finally started to return to a sort of... normal. I've finally started to feel... more like myself again. I know I'll never be the same person I was eight months ago, but... I _love_ you, Trip. I don't know what... I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I don't _want_ to know what I'd do if I lost you."

The confession caught Trip by surprise. While they had started dating six months or so ago, and Trip had told Malcolm that he loved him several times, the armoury officer had never returned the words. Until now. He shushed his distraught lover and stood up, pulling the armoury officer into his arms. Malcolm returned the gesture and then pressed his head against Trip's chest. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady rythm of the engineer's heartbeat.

Trip gently ran his fingers through Malcolm's hair. "I'm right here, Mal. I ain't dead. I'm right here." The armoury officer buried his face into Trip's chest, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Mal?"

"Hmm?" Malcolm's voice was slightly muffled from Trip's uniform.

"I know I said this 'bout a hundred times 'fore, but I love you. Always have. I've loved ya since ya came into Engineerin' that first day, demandin' to know where all your 'quipment was. I've never felt so strongly 'bout anyone in my life."

Malcolm pulled away a bit so he could look Trip in the eyes. The engineer seemed almost hesitant, like he was treading on thin ice. An inkling of dread settled in Malcolm's chest. "Are you... you're not... you..." Suddenly he shoved Trip away. "I should have known." His voice was cold and sharp like a dagger. "You... you bloody _jerk!"_

"Mal, what the heck are ya talkin' 'bout?!"

"What do you _think_ I'm talking about?!" Malcolm's eyes were burning with anger. "You're breaking up with me! And picked a hell of a time to do it too!"

Trip's jaw dropped at Malcolm's words. "What?! Mal-!" He was interrupted when a sudden stinging sensation burned his cheek. It took Trip a full second to realise what happened. Malcolm had slapped him.

"I can't believe you," Malcolm whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He whirled about on his heel and made to stomp out of Trip's quarters right then and there. But a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Malcolm!" Trip turned the armoury officer back around so they were again face to face. "I'm _not_ breakin' up with ya! Why in the name of- why would you think I'd _ever_ want to do that?! Mal, I wanted to ask ya to _marry_ me!" There was a small pause. "Again." The fire blazing in Malcolm's eyes immediately dissipated, but he didn't say a word. His expression was unreadable. Trip bit his lip, trying to think of what to say next. "I... I'm sorry for makin' ya think... Mal, I would _never_ wanna break up with ya. Ya mean a lot to me. Heck, ya mean everything to me. Malcolm... please... don't go."

Malcolm was quiet for a full minute and Trip was beginning to think he screwed it all up again big time when the words came out in a whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mistah Tuckah."

And before Trip could even formulate a response, Malcolm grabbed the Southerner's face in his hands and kissed him.

* * *

"Trip? You awake?"

There was no reply from the Southerner, aside from some snoring. Malcolm shuffled closer to Trip, his nose lightly bumping the back of the engineer's neck. The armoury officer lazily wrapped an arm around Trip's waist.

"Trip... to answer the question you didn't ask... yes. Yes. I want to marry you." A sad smile lined Malcolm's face. "But I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet. I'm still healing." He planted a kiss on Trip's shoulder. "And I don't know if _you're_ really ready for a _second_ marriage, either. We'll know when it's the right time, though. And I promise when it's that time, I'll marry you."

Trip grunted fitfully in his sleep. Malcolm let out a low chuckle of amusement.

"And sorry I slapped you."


	5. Mr Sandman

Mr. Sandman

* * *

"Malcolm."

"Hmm...?"

"It's time to get up, Mal."

"Can't you see I'm trying to _sleep_, Trip?" Malcolm buried his face further into the pillow. Trip nudged the armoury officer's bare shoulder with his elbow, grinning in amusement at the sleep-ridden Brit.

"If ya don't get up now, we're gonna be late," Trip told the smaller man in a sing-song voice.

"Late for _what?"_

"It's _that_ day, Malcolm."

The armoury officer's eyes snapped open. "Shit!" In his attempt to scramble out of bed, Malcolm's legs got tangled in the bedsheets and he wound up falling front-first on the floor.

"Whoa, ya alright there, Mal?!" Trip was instantly at his side, helping him up to the bathroom.

"Yes, I'm fine," Malcolm replied, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "I just need to slow down for a bit."

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, needin' to _'slow down for a bit?'"_ Trip asked in mock horror. "I thought I'd never see the day!" This of course earned him an annoyed glare from the armoury officer in his arms.

The engineer, once assured that the only thing Malcolm suffered from his fall was some minor bruising, left the smaller man to his own devices. So Malcolm got in the shower and proceeded to hurriedly scrub himself clean. Near the end he could hear Trip's vehement cursing outside the bathroom. He didn't pay it any mind. No doubt the Southerner had again misplaced something of his and was now looking for it.

Served him right for never bothering to put anything back where he found it.

"Mal, don't s'pose ya know where my lucky tie is?" Trip walked into the bathroom just as Malcolm was stepping out of the shower, dripping water on the floor. The armoury officer wrapped a towel around his waist and thought a moment about where the MIA tie could be.

"Unfortunately, no," Malcolm finally told him, shrugging lightly. Water dripped from his damp hair onto his shoulders, making him shiver a little. "Did you try looking under the bed?"

"Yep, and it ain't there."

Malcolm stared at Trip's shirt. "Please tell me you're not wearing _that."_

Trip looked down at his shirt, then back up at Malcolm. "Why, what's wrong with it?"

"It's hideous, that's what."

A grin spread across Trip's face. "Call it extra _incentive_ for ya to get off me later tonight."

"Alright, out with you." Malcolm pointed to the bathroom exit, barely suppressing a grin of his own. Trip playfully stuck his tongue out at the smaller man and sauntered out. The armoury officer rolled his eyes and got dressed into his formal attire, finishing off by combing his still-wet hair. When he stepped out of the bathroom he found Trip putting on a tie.

"Found it," Trip said, giving the tie a final tug. "For some reason or 'nother it got stuck in my _pillowcase_ of all places. Ya all ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, love," Malcolm replied, sidling up behind Trip and kissing him on the cheek. He offered his arm to the Southerner. "Shall we?"

Trip grinned down at the armoury officer and accepted the invitation eagerly, looping his arm around Malcolm's. "We shall."

The drive to the Archer family home was a pleasant one, aside from the fact that at one point Trip came only inches away from accidentally running over a squirrel. "Damn li'l critter don't know what the hell it's doin'," the engineer had muttered, making Malcolm chuckle softly. Leave it to Trip to almost turn a fluffy rodent into roadkill.

The house was normally unremarkable- it was a decent size, the outside walls made of strong logs, the dirty white door frames slanted at a nearly imperceptible angle, and faded the porch creaky from old age. Today however, it was thoroughly decorated with flowers and vines- whether said vines were real or not, Malcolm wasn't sure. When they walked inside, the first thing Malcolm spotted were rose petals on the floor. The second thing was that a little girl of about six was prancing around in a fluffy purple dress, casting around said petals. She glided up to Trip and Malcolm on her little feet and tossed petals at them.

Malcolm tried not to cringe as one of said petals slowly fluttered down and settled on his nose. Trip just laughed, of course.

Both officers were very much relieved though when they did get some seats, which were situated out in the backyard. Trip insisted that they be in the front row and considering the magnitude of the event taking place Malcolm wasn't inclined to argue. So they sat down and waited.

Malcolm turned to look at Trip. "Are you... are you okay with this?"

Trip gave the armoury officer a confused look. "What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"With _this."_ Malcolm gestured to the decorations around them. "I know what happened between you and her-"

"Mal." Trip took the Brit's hand in his own. "The past is exactly what the name says it is- the past. I love _you,_ Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. And only _you._ No matter what happens, nothin's ever gonna change that. Dontcha forget it." Malcolm, after a moment, lifted his free hand and brushed his fingers lightly against the Southerner's tanned knuckles.

"I love you too, Commander Charles Tucker," Malcolm murmured, pressing his head against Trip's. "And don't you forget it either." The engineer smiled softly and squeezed the other man's hand affectionately. Malcolm's gaze was diverted when he heard a familiar set of footsteps on the walkway. Trip looked over as well and immediately grinned.

"How do I look?" Jonathan asked, looking at the two Starfleet officers nervously.

"Ya look great," Trip reassured him. "Got the jitters?"

"Hell yes," Jonathan replied. He shuffled on his feet and tugged his sleeves. "What... what if she says no? I mean... I just..."

"She ain't gonna say no to you, Jon," Trip told him in amusement. "After all, _you're_ the cap'n."

Jonathan managed a small smile. "I hope you're right. About her not saying no, I mean." Someone turned on the wedding music at that second and it was loud flurry of activity as everyone hurried to get to their places in time.

"Glad we got our seats when we did," Malcolm commented as he observed the utter chaos around them. Trip nodded in agreement. Then the engineer winced as one man stumbled over someone's dog and landed smack face-first on a table.

"Ouch," Trip muttered. "Think we should go help him?"

The man stood up groggily and made his way to his seat, muttering curses under his breath. Malcolm shrugged as he watched and replied, "He seems fine now. He'll have a nice big shiner later, though."

Trip just chuckled.

Finally, there was that moment of utter stillness, where time seemed to freeze. Then the back door of the house swung open and out stepped a familiar face in Vulcan garb. At T'Pol's side was her mother, who led her across the yard to the platform where Jonathan stood. The Admiral waited patiently as T'Pol's mother settled herself in her seat.

Trip locked eyes with Malcolm. "So, when this is over, ya wanna maybe _do it_ under that table over there?" he whispered to the armoury officer.

Malcolm barely held back a bark of laughter. "You're terrible. We aren't teenagers, you know."

Trip just grinned, earning a snort of amusement from Malcolm. They turned their attention back to the couple on the platform. The Starfleet Admiral standing beside Jonathan and T'Pol cleared her throat. "We are here today," the Admiral began, "to witness the binding of two people in matrimony..." It was when Trip squeezed Malcolm's hand a second time that he finally felt a hundred percent sure.

"Trip?" Malcolm whispered.

"Yeah?"

"What do you say to that second wedding?"

~Fin~

* * *

**A/N: A bit of a fun fact (for those of you who didn't already notice), each chapter is named for a song! I've got the list right here:**

**"Glycerin"- Bush**

**"Shatter Me"- Lindsey Stirling**

**"Walking the Wire"- Imagine Dragons**

**"Mr. Sandman"- Vaughn Monroe & The Orchestra**

**And in addition to the chapters, the story itself was also named after a song. :)**

**"If Today Was Your Last Day"- Nickelback**


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